


Turn Back the Night

by a_lanart



Series: Mystery Verse [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series, Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Episode: s01e07 Greeks Bearing Gifts, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-18
Updated: 2009-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:52:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_lanart/pseuds/a_lanart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has to deal with the aftermath of executing Mary; he discovers he doesn't have to do it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn Back the Night

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Not mine: Belong to aunty beeb, RTD and Panzer/Davis  
> No copyright infringement intended, no profit made.

Jack resolutely stared out over the night-dark city. He'd watched Toshiko leave her perch outside the millennium centre some time ago, but he did not desert his post. He was trying not to think of feeling 'dead' to Toshiko when she used the pendant, trying not to mourn the loss of something beautiful in his friend, and wondering why he was watching and waiting while his feet became more akin to blocks of ice than flesh and blood. Eventually his unspoken question was answered when a presence impinged on his consciousness; a presence he felt almost as much as he heard, that resolved into a warm, vital and achingly familiar pair of arms folding around him and holding him close. No words were spoken, but the kiss that tingled against his skin said more than mere words could. Gradually Jack felt the cold leave him as they breathed together, though his feet still felt like blocks of ice, and eventually he managed to truly relax into the encircling arms. It was only then that he acknowledged the other.

"Methos." He asked no questions, but to someone who knew how to hear them, they were still there. Methos chose to answer the most obvious.

"I have to be in Bristol tomorrow; it's too close to Cardiff not to take the opportunity to see you. And Ianto was worried." Jack shifted infinitesimally in his arms, another unspoken question for Methos to answer. He smiled into Jack's hair. "I sent him home: it's just you and me, Batman."

"Batman?" Jack spluttered and turned round to face Methos, who was still smiling.

"Oh come on, don't tell me you've missed the analogy. Enigmatic hero with long coat likes to stand on tall buildings and is looked after by his faithful butler." Jack shook his head, but couldn't help smiling himself.

"Ok. If I'm Batman and Ianto is Alfred, what does that make you? Robin? You don't seem the type."

"That's because I'm not. I'm a mysterious stranger... Now are you going to come back with me to my nice warm hotel room so I can make you forget whatever it is that drove you up here in the first place, or are you going to insist we stay out here and turn into the proverbial brass monkeys?" Methos stuck his hands in his coat pockets and shrugged himself deeper into its enveloping folds as he stepped back to give Jack room to think. Jack glanced at Methos, still with a trace of a smile on his face, then turned back to view the cityscape. He shivered, but not just from the cold; the prospect of another lonely night was not a good one, not with the way he was feeling, and the temptation of Methos inspired oblivion would take a stronger man than him to resist. There was no competition, and he was sure Methos had known that. Jack closed the gap between them and threw an arm around Methos's shoulders, pulling him close.

"Where did you say this hotel was?" He asked nonchalantly. Methos snaked one of his arms around Jack's waist and returned the hug.

"Not far..." Still wrapped around each other they turned their backs on the night to return to the world below.

 

Jack was pleased to note that Methos had actually been telling the truth when he said that his hotel wasn't far, and while it lacked the ambience of the flat in the brewery quarter it was still big enough to swing a cat in, and had a decent looking bed. The door had barely closed behind them when he reached for Methos, only to be stopped by a determined hand on his chest.

"Oh, no you don't." Jack glanced down at the restraining hand, then back up at Methos with a faint air of puzzlement.

"Why not?" He asked. He didn't get an immediate answer as Methos slid out of his coat and hung it up, then bent to remove his boots. "And why do you have this thing about taking your boots off as soon as you get in?" Methos looked up at him and grinned.

"When you're taking someone's clothes off, haven't you noticed that your fingers don't untie knots very well by the time you get to their feet? I'm making your job easier, Harkness."

"Ah. In that case..." Jack shrugged out of his own coat and made short work of removing his boots while Methos chuckled.

"That's better." Methos grasped one of Jack's hands and drew him close, not to kiss, just to hold. Cheek pressed to cheek and arms wrapped around each other, they re-established the connection between them before moving as one to claim each others lips.

"I've missed you," Jack whispered against Methos's mouth as he paused for breath. "I've missed this." He felt Methos smile.

"That makes two of us." Jack was unable to say anything in reply, as Methos had taken possession of his mouth once more and was kissing him as if there was no tomorrow and not much left of today. Jack moaned into the kiss and returned it in kind, loving the way that a kiss could feel so demanding and gentle at the same time. Hands began to wander, searching for skin to touch, and they broke apart as their clothes became a barrier to what they both wanted and needed to feel. Jack's braces had already been slid off his shoulders and his shirt unbuttoned but his t-shirt and Methos's penchant for chunky jumpers had proved too big an obstacle to surmount, and still remain connected physically. Clothes were shed in double quick time as they tried to maintain that connection to each other with their eyes alone, before moving back toward each other in the first steps of a dance as old as time itself. Jack's mouth traced a path across Methos's skin, biting gently at the sensitive spot on his neck before sweeping across shoulders that were far more substantial out of clothes than they looked in them. Methos hissed with pleasure and let his fingers glide over Jack's shoulders and back and hips until he was holding on so tight that he could feel his fingertips digging in to soft flesh. Methos landed on the bed with a dull thud and a slight bounce, not entirely sure whether he'd been pushed down there, or whether he'd fallen backward and dragged Jack with him. Not that he was bothered either way as the net result was the same; they were both where they wanted to be, entangled with each other on a horizontal surface. The ensuing tussle for supremacy ended up with Methos gaining the upper hand and he pinned Jack to the bed with as much of himself as possible while still managing to reach all the sensitive spots on Jack's skin that he could.

It didn't take long before Jack ceased his half-hearted struggle against Methos and relaxed under his attentions instead, body arching into each kiss and caress, silently begging for more. Methos carefully sat back on his heels for a moment, breathing heavily, eyes drinking in the sight before him. Jack whimpered at the loss of stimulation.

"You stopped." How Jack managed to sound both accusing and desperate at the same time with so few words made Methos tingle all over, he wasn't sure he'd managed to hone that skill to quite the same level despite his advantage of years. He leaned down to nibble Jack's lips playfully, as he dug the lube out from under the pillow.

"Not for long..." He whispered against Jack's lips, conscious of them curving into a smile against his own. He felt rather than heard the reply as Jack's breath puffed gently across his mouth.

"Good..." Methos shuffled backwards on the bed and flipped open the lube, coating his fingers liberally. He stole another glance at Jack, who had let his eyes drift shut while his hips strained toward Methos. Much as Methos wanted to take Jack and make him scream, he realised he needed something slightly different; he didn't think Jack would mind and he was sure he'd still coax a yell or two out of him.

Jack's eyes flew back open as the lube-slick fingers touched his cock, coating him thoroughly. It wasn't the touch he'd been expecting, but he wasn't going to complain, not at all, not when Methos's hands felt so good. Their eyes locked, and Methos gave Jack a rather predatory grin that made him shiver inside and out.

"Change of plan." Methos growled, before slithering up Jack's body and kneeling over him. His brain barely had time to register Methos's intent as he carefully lowered his hips, impaling himself on Jack's cock.

Methos paused, gasping, letting the initial burn of pain settle to the more bearable sting of pleasure, and consciously willed his body to relax further so he could take more of Jack inside himself. He felt his body comply with gratifying rapidity and inch by careful inch he lowered himself onto Jack's straining cock until he could at last feel Jack's balls against his arse. He drew a deep shuddering breath and opened his eyes.

Jacks clenched his fists into the duvet, desperately trying not to move, not to thrust up into the hot tightness that was slowly enveloping him. He'd been partly shocked out of his haze of lust by Methos's change of plan, knowing that obtaining maximum pleasure for both of them required intense concentration and more than a little restraint. Restraint on his own part wasn't something that he usually brought to a bed that contained Methos; he'd been shown that it wasn't usually necessary. Right now it was, and Jack was finding it hellishly difficult. He watched Methos, the hazel eyes squeezed shut in concentration, head flung back, chest heaving, droplets of sweat running down the fair skin that Jack was just dying to lick away. It seemed forever before Methos stopped moving and opened his eyes. Jack thought that he looked all-powerful, like some sort of Greek God. He hadn't realised he'd said this aloud until Methos ground out breathlessly,

"I'm not Greek. And being a God is overrated." Jack intended to answer, but found himself unable to as Methos began to move again and the resulting waves of pleasure stole all his breath as he struggled not to come right there and then. Methos grinned at his reaction and settled into a gentle rocking motion, unable to stifle his moans as each tiny movement drove Jack's cock deeper into his arse. Soon they were both shuddering and gasping, and Jack realised he couldn't hold back much longer.

"I..." he panted. Methos became very still, and reached out with one shaking hand to touch Jack's clenched fist. He closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath before opening them again and letting his gaze bore into Jack's.

"You can move now," Methos whispered. Jack needed no further urging and grabbed one of Methos's hips in a vice-like grip as he thrust upwards into him, hard. He wrapped the other hand round Methos's cock and smeared the pre-come over the sensitive head before gently squeezing it. The groan this produced in Methos went straight to Jack's cock and he thrust upwards again, this time to be met by Methos's hips pressing downwards, driving him deeper; the resulting moan was torn from two throats. All restraint and concentration was thrown out of the window at that point as Methos instinctively thrust forward into Jack's hand before driving himself back onto Jack's cock, fingers clamped on Jack's arm hard enough to draw blood. Not that Jack noticed as he drove himself as deep as he could into Methos's body; they were beyond conscious awareness, focused entirely on their mutual need for release. Methos came first, spurting over Jack's hand, and chest and face, shuddering and calling out wordlessly. Jack could not resist the clenching of Methos's muscles around him, and screamed his own release as he emptied himself with one last thrust into Methos's body. Methos collapsed against Jack with an inarticulate moan, and Jack carefully wrapped his arms around him, unable to help flinching slightly as sweat found its way into the open scratches that Methos had left on his arm, but needing to hold the old immortal close to stop himself from falling apart.

As Methos began to wriggle out of his cramped position, Jack carefully rolled them both onto their sides. Methos stretched his legs out with a sigh of relief and snuggled closer to Jack, gently kissing his way from neck to jaw to mouth. Jack smiled, and tenderly brushed a finger down Methos's cheek. Methos leaned into the caress, but stiffened when he noticed the blood on Jack's arm. Capturing Jack's wrist he carefully scrutinised the marks, before dropping feather-light kisses on them.

"Sorry about that." He said, sounding rather apologetic.

"They feel fine now you've kissed them better and they'll be gone by tomorrow. Anyway, I don't care; I love it when you lose control." Methos released Jack's wrist after kissing his bloodied arm once more and hefted himself up on one elbow to look down at Jack.

"You know what?" Jack shook his head, still smiling. "So do I. If I was mortal you'd be the death of me, Jack Harkness." Jack's smile morphed into a lascivious grin.

"Great way to go, though..." Methos collapsed back onto the bed, laughing, as Jack continued to grin at him.

"And you call me evil." He eventually managed to get his laughter under control. "Evil or not, I still need a shower." He poked Jack in the chest, carefully avoiding the rapidly drying stains. "And so do you."

After a quick shower they ensconced themselves back on the disordered bed with cups of tea as neither of them could face instant coffee after being spoiled by Ianto. Jack found himself leaning comfortably against Methos's chest as the ancient immortal channel-surfed, before switching the TV off with a disappointed grunt. Putting the remote back on the night stand with the tea-cups, Methos wrapped his arms around Jack and nuzzled his hair.

"You want to talk about it?" He asked. Jack tilted his head back to lean on Methos's shoulder and looked up into his eyes.

"Not really. But I think I should." Jack slowly began to tell Methos about Mary and the pendant, about the people she'd killed and his decision to mete out his own brand of harsh justice on her. During the narrative he moved out of Methos's arms to sit beside him, but kept hold of his hand. There was a brief silence after Jack finished the story about Mary during which Methos squeezed his fingers gently, encouraging him to continue. He should have known that Methos would realise there was more. Jack sighed.

"I hate the killing." He said baldly.

"But you do it anyway." Methos replied in a voice completely devoid of any inflection, his fingers still entwined with Jack's. Jack looked into his face, searching his eyes.

"There are times when someone has to, no matter how they feel, no matter how many hearts they might break." Jack tightened his grip on Methos's fingers. "But what does that make me? I'm a killer, and I'm good at it; sometimes I look at myself and see a monster and I wonder what other people see. What do you see when you look at me, Methos? What do you think?" Methos lifted their joined fingers to his lips and brushed a delicate kiss across Jack's knuckles.

"I see the same person I always have." He replied sincerely. "You're human, not a monster; ruthless compared to some people maybe, but still human. And as for what I think..." Methos sighed. "How can a person who has killed thousands for pleasure criticise someone who kills out of duty? I am not in a position to pass judgement on you." He glanced at their fingers, gently rubbing Jack's skin with his thumb.

"That's different." Methos's eyes snapped back up to meet Jack's.

"Why? Why is it different? Because it was millennia ago? I'm still the same person, Jack, I'm still the man who was Death on a Horse. And while I like to think I've mellowed over the years, I'm still just as capable of violence and dealing out death as I was then. At the end of the day, all immortals like me are killers; we fight to survive, every single one of us, even when we'd prefer to live in peace." He shifted slightly against the pillows. "Plus you can't forget that there is always the possibility that your closest friend might turn into your worst enemy; just ask Ianto about Dark Quickenings sometime." Jack shuddered in response,

"I couldn't live like that" he said, ignoring the small voice that told him in a way he already did.

"You get used to it; and if you don't, you die. It's kill or be killed in my world, Jack, with few exceptions."

"That seems inhuman."

"So we've turned the circle."

"What?"

"You felt inhuman; I remind you that you aren't, tell you about myself and then you realise that it's me who is inhuman instead. Simple." He let go of Jack's hand and gestured.

"But you aren't inhuman." Jack argued.

"Exactly." Methos stretched languidly. "So endeth the lesson." Jack gaped at Methos for a second; mentally reviewing the conversation in his head in an effort to get it to make sense while Methos watched him, a smile slowly creeping over his face. Jack met the smile wryly.

"You know, I don't think I'm ever going to understand you..." Methos's smile widened and became a grin.

"But?" He asked. Jack leaned forward to steal a quick kiss before replying

"I'll sure have fun trying. Maybe I just need the practice."

"Maybe. I'll have to make sure you get plenty of opportunity. Now shut up and come here." Methos tugged gently on Jack's hand; Jack needed no further urging and dived in for another kiss, this one much more thorough. Inevitably the kiss led to others and it wasn't long before they were breathless, hot and hard once more. Jack gazed down at Methos, panting.

"Haven't we been here before?" He teased.

"Seems kind of familiar, but..." With no warning he managed to flip them over, which elicited a muffled 'oof' from Jack as he found himself on his back once more. Methos smiled dangerously. "*Now* we've been here before..." Methos made short work of making sure Jack was in no fit state to argue before reaching for the lube again.

Jack pressed back against slick fingers, wanting, needing to be filled, and sooner rather than later. Methos did not make him wait long, and was soon pushing into him carefully, too carefully for Jack's liking, and he thrust back against Methos, forcing him deeper, knowing Methos would answer his need. Jack was not disappointed as Methos drove himself back into his body again and again; harder, faster and just what Jack wanted. Drowning in desire, he was barely aware of Methos changing their position until he found his mouth captured by insistent lips, an onslaught he happily welcomed. He only realised that the kiss wasn't just going to be a kiss when the lightning-like shock of Methos's quickening flowed over his tongue, down his throat, and spread like wildfire throughout his body. Then he was coming, screaming his throat raw, but aware that there was another voice raised with his as Methos thrust into him one last time, filling him with what felt like liquid fire.

Snuggled comfortably together in the languor that followed, Jack finally found his voice again.

"You should be listed as a health hazard, old man." He commented. Methos brushed the hair back from Jack's face and kissed him gently.

"You look healthy enough to me. Stop complaining."

"Who said I was complaining?" They smiled into each others eyes, and Methos chuckled slightly.

"Fair enough," he said, wriggling slightly to find a more comfortable position in Jack's arms, his eyes were getting heavy and sleep was becoming a necessity; he needed to make an early start in the morning, even though he'd rather spend it with Jack. There were fingers in his hair stroking, soothing him and he drifted off with Jack whispering what sounded like 'sleep well' to him.

They were still wrapped around each other when the alarm broke the silence in the morning. Methos cursed as he knocked the clock on the floor, trying to switch it off. It didn't help that Jack was wide awake and bright eyed as he reached down and picked the offending object off the floor and silenced the alarm. Methos grunted a half-intelligible thank you and buried his head under the covers to avoid the light that filled the room. It didn't muffle Jack's resounding laugh though.

"You really aren't a morning person, are you?"

"I'm too old for mornings. Especially *this* morning." He said from under the covers.

"Hard luck." Said Jack, as he stripped the covers off the bed. "Early start, remember."

"I know, I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it." He hauled himself out of bed and padded to the bathroom. "You going to join me?" Jack glanced at the clock, then at Methos, made a quick mental calculation, and grinned.

"You bet I am."

Jack leaned against the hotel wall, whistling to himself as he waited for Methos to finish checking out. He was feeling much more at peace with himself and the world than he had before Methos had arrived, and it wasn't just because of the distraction he had offered. Methos had a talent for grounding him, for making him feel washed clean of all his troubles just by being there and listening. It was something that no-one else in his life had managed to do so completely. Part of it was knowing that no matter what he'd done, who he'd been, Methos had probably already been there and would not judge him. Being accepted for what and who he was felt rather liberating, with Methos there was no pretence. Jack didn't delude himself that Methos felt the same, but he felt their mutual acceptance of each other was one of the things that bound them together. Jack was still mulling things over when a gentle hand on his face interrupted his train of thought.

"Penny for them?" Methos asked.

"Just thinking that you're very good for me." Methos leaned in for a kiss.

"Likewise. And don't you forget it." They walked toward Methos's car side by side, hand in hand, though Jack broke the contact and gathered Methos into his arms as they reached the jaguar.

"Any idea when you'll be able to visit again?"

"None, I'm afraid. But be sure that I will." They shared a tender kiss, and Jack stood back to let Methos get into his car. "Do you want a lift back?" He asked, after he'd started the engine. Jack glanced at the sky; the only clouds were high up and unthreatening. He took a deep breath, at this hour the air tasted almost as washed clean as he felt.

"Thanks, but I think I'll walk." He leaned through the open window for another kiss. "Later, Methos."

"See you, Jack." Jack turned away to leave and had taken a few steps when Methos called. "Oh and Jack," He turned back again to meet Methos's eyes. "Remember: Love life; don't just live it." Jack blew him a kiss as Methos pulled away, and started his walk back to Torchwood with a huge smile plastered to his face. It was a good day to be alive.


End file.
